


et in noctibus

by Dwarfankylosaur



Category: The Lion in Winter
Genre: M/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-22 21:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwarfankylosaur/pseuds/Dwarfankylosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I would like to thank carmarthen, for extensive betaing, and valartd, for pointing out that dead characters cannot speak.  I've fudged the timeline here a bit; to the best of my knowledge there's no record of a military alliance between Richard and Philip before 1187, although Henry and John had designs on Richard's holdings long before then.</p>
    </blockquote>





	et in noctibus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baffledking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baffledking/gifts).



> I would like to thank carmarthen, for extensive betaing, and valartd, for pointing out that dead characters cannot speak. I've fudged the timeline here a bit; to the best of my knowledge there's no record of a military alliance between Richard and Philip before 1187, although Henry and John had designs on Richard's holdings long before then.

Richard came in the spring of 1186 to ask for Philip's help, after very nearly turning around a dozen times. He expected Philip to be smug and contemptuous, and though the thought of bearing Philip's scorn made his head pound and his stomach churn, he planned to accept any mocking remarks with quiet dignity, and thus show himself to be the stronger man.

But Philip, the traitor, refused him even this satisfaction. Philip met him at the gate with a broad and guileless smile, and embraced him like a long-lost brother. Philip asked after Richard's health and the status of his latest campaigns and listened as though no topic in the world held greater interest for him, and Richard, unsure of Philip's motives but certain this was part of some new and cruel plot, answered in curt monosyllables. Philip introduced Richard to his wife, Isabelle -- a pretty, simple girl of about 16 -- as "my most beloved friend," and Richard, who composed poetry in two languages and read two more, found himself suddenly unable to speak. Philip invited Richard to sit by his right hand at the supper table, and Richard sat quiet and seething as Philip and his court made bright and witty conversation around him. At night, he retired to his ridiculously opulent chambers ready to sob with frustration. He was being made a fool of. Again.

When Philip knocked on his door near midnight, carrying a bottle of wine and two cups, Richard nearly howled with misery. Instead, he shut the door. This was a foolish plan. He would return to the Aquitaine and fight alone, and if he had not lived well, he would at least die well.

There was another muffled knock at the door. Richard closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and opened it again.

"That's a strange way to treat an old friend. Especially an old friend who has something you want."

"What makes you think I want anything from you?"

"So you've come to renew our old acquaintance? Or perhaps despising me from afar has lost its charm, and you've decided to come and do it to my face? Of course you want something. The only question is what type of something." Philip raised the bottle, and smiled his perfect, even smile. "May I come in? This room does belong to me, you know."

Richard stepped aside, seeing no other option. "Your wife won't wonder where you've gone?"

"My beloved Isabelle does not concern herself with affairs of state, or affairs of any other sort." Philip placed the wine on the table, poured himself a cup, and sank bonelessly into his chair. "Enough intrigue, Richard; you're no good at it. Sit. Tell me what you're after."

"John and Henry are planning to take the Aquitaine."

"John and Henry are always planning to take the Aquitaine."

"This time they mean to do it." Richard sat, stiff-backed, and took the cup Philip offered him. "Henry's growing old and John is growing impatient. He wants a toy kingdom of his own, and Henry wants John pacified. Henry's given John permission to take the Aquitaine by force, and he's willing to supply his own troops for the endeavor."

"You know this?"

"I have sources --"

"Geoffrey."

"Geoffrey and others, yes."

"And you trust Geoffrey?"

"Geoffrey will sell out anyone who'll fetch a price, but he won't risk lying to me. He'll want a place in my court if John loses."

Philip leaned back further in his chair and laid his right arm across his knee, and Richard was momentarily stunned by the way Philip's hand draped from his wrist, the way his fingers closed around the rim of his cup. He had seen Philip in that posture a thousand times, but for the first time he recognized the deliberate performance. It was a boyish attitude, and Philip, Richard saw, was no longer a boy. His hands were rougher, and his arms had scars Richard did not remember. There were a few fine wrinkles beginning to form about his eyes and mouth. He was, to Richard's horror, more beautiful than ever. Richard wanted to walk over to where Philip was sitting, press his hand against his throat, push him back and . . . and Philip was looking at him with one eyebrow raised. Richard felt his face heat up, turning, no doubt, a truly humiliating shade of scarlet. He took a too-quick, too-large gulp of wine. Christ, facing Philip on the battlefield would be infinitely preferable to this.

"Why should I help you?" Philip asked.

"Don't be dense. John's a pathetic twisted mockery of a man, but he's got Henry behind him. If John takes the Aquitaine, Henry controls England and two-thirds of France and there's no one to stand in his way. How do you plan to play us off each other then?"

"Ah, but Henry will die someday, and John can be tricked and Geoffrey can be bought. Why should I replace a weak prince with a strong one?"

"John will have Eleanor too. She doesn't love him, but she loves the land he stands to inherit. She's dangerous and she's cleverer than you."

"Eleanor is as mortal as Henry."

"Eleanor is a human cockroach. She'll outlive God. What is it you want?"

Philip paused to consider that, fingering his cup. "What makes you think I want anything from you?"

"If you meant to let Henry take the Aquitaine, you'd promise everything and deliver nothing, not sit here haggling like a Jew. Do you want me to beg? Richard of Aquitaine on his knees, is that what you want?"

"That would be a start." Philip leaned forward, placed his cup -- still untouched, Richard noted -- on the table, and ran his fingers around the edge. After a moment he looked up, his face expressionless. "What if I say I want your love again?"

The nausea Richard had been feeling since he entered the castle rose up to choke him. "I thought we were going to speak frankly."

"I am speaking frankly."

"Leave me. I won't play your games tonight." Richard rose from his chair, amazed that his legs were still functioning. He felt as though his skull were shrinking. He couldn't breathe with Philip in the room.

"Richard --"

"Go. Please."

" _Don't you turn away from me!_ "

Richard stopped. Philip was standing with his shoulders hunched like a hawk's, with his nostrils flared and his lips pulled back in a snarl.

"Why?"

Philip seemed to catch hold of himself, and smoothed his features into something resembling his usual pleasant mask. "That's a broad question, Richard. Why not be a little more specific?"

"Why did you do it?"

Philip's face was calm, but his eyes were narrow slits and his knuckles were white on the armrests of his chair. "Isn't it obvious? I wanted you to suffer. I wanted to see you helpless and humiliated and in pain. I wanted to do to you what you did to me."

Richard remembered the horror he felt when he realized the full extent of Philip's betrayal. He remembered standing in agony, with his chest ripped open for everyone to see. The pain was exhausting. He couldn't even feel angry anymore.

"Did you get what you wanted, then?"

"Yes. For a while." Philip sighed and dropped back into his chair. "Four years is a long time. I think we've both suffered enough."

"And if I disagree?"

"Then you can stand against John and Henry alone."

"So you offer troops in exchange for... what? Friendship? Affection? A quick tumble between the sheets?"

"Let's try all of the above, shall we?"

For weeks after Chinon, Richard had held out the foolish hope that Philip would come to him and explain that it was all somehow a ghastly misunderstanding. Richard would have accepted any explanation, then; he would have accepted bold-faced lies. In all that time, he had never imagined this. To Philip, though, it probably made a twisted kind of sense.

"What if I'm not interested? You've changed, you know."

"Then you wouldn't be here." Philip's perfect smile was back, and his head tilted lazily against the back of the chair, but his hands were still rigid on the armrests. Maybe Philip wasn't so confident as he pretended to be. It made the decision easier.

"Who knows," Richard said, and held out his hand stiffly. "Maybe when Henry hears of this, he'll be struck dead by the shock, and we'll be rid of him once and for all."

Philip's broad smile looked genuine, and despite the certainty, small but uncrushable in the back of Richard's mind, that Philip had just found some new way to make his life hell on earth, Richard decided to believe that it was genuine. He would believe in Philip until Philip made believing impossible again. If that made him pathetic and a fool, well, he had experience.

Richard noticed, suddenly, that there were no tapestries in the room.

Philip squeezed his hand.

  



End file.
